The Void

By Alexander S. Bauer

The Void is a dream world shared in the slumbers of thousands of victims of abuse. It is the haven in which their minds have allowed them to seek refuge from the indefatigable horrors of their real lives. Follow Andrey, Clementine, Eve, Natalie, Owen, and Taryn as they explore this haven and come to terms with the struggles in their lives.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alexander S. Bauer
• Release date: Feb 24, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310754890

Alexander S. Bauer

I was abysmal at the kind of writing that gets you good grades in English classes, so I never wrote much until tenth grade, after my ninth grade teacher embraced my creativity. Since then I haven't been able to stop.The best way to describe myself would be complex. I lettered in two sports (Bowling and Baseball) in high school and captained two academic clubs (Science Olympiad and Math League. I'm a jock who likes to write, who watches Star Trek, who cares about LGBT issues and human sexuality. I'm a nerd that plays with legos and builds model railroads, but can also play sports. One day I'll read about psychology, then movies, then hockey, then history.I've written four full novels, a couple dozen short stories and somewhere around five hundred poems. As a writer I derive inspiration from Rowling, Orwell, Crichton, and a number of Star Trek novelists as well as every movie I've ever seen. I like fantasy, things that can't happen in real life, the creation of entire worlds in which both author and reader can immerse themselves. I like ambiguous characters, neither good nor bad. I like insidious heroes, bastards with hearts of gold, people that make you laugh and think at the same time.And I love to converse, so if you're like me, track me down somewhere and say hi.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Exposition

Who are you? Eve asked.

They call me Expo.

Expo?

The name of an old baseball team. I played for them once.

Are you real?

Yes, he said, the wrinkly warmth of his smile melting away the judgment in her gaze.

Well, I’ve never seen you before, don’t they say everyone in your dreams is someone you’ve seen before?

My dear, I think you’ll find a lot of things here that you haven’t seen before.

Eve studied her surroundings for the first time. She stood on a narrow pier jutting out into what appeared to be a large calm ocean. She was asleep, dreaming, she knew that much, but things were different. For one a steady rain poured from the sky, something she couldn’t recall having happened in any of her previous dreams. It was a warm rain, inviting her to play, not driving her towards shelter. Expo seemed entirely unbothered by it, and so too was she, she decided. Especially since it didn’t seem to be getting her very wet.

Expo led her down the narrow set of planks to a wider platform, off of which other piers jutted far into the water. The one way at the far end is the one I came here on, he explained, adjusting his overalls as they walked. Eve looked down on her own clothing, the trim skinny jeans and curve-hiding T-shirt she would have chosen even if given an infinite array of options. When coupled with her androgynous features and completely bald head, they made her quite the mystery to heterosexual cis-gendered onlookers that wanted nothing more than to figure her out and categorize her as they saw fit. She hated categories.

It’s beautiful, she said as the large platform led them ashore and she could see buildings in the distance.

I quite like it, though I’m not sure about the blue, he said referring to the faint tint that seemed to emanate from everything.

Blue is a calming color, Eve explained.

Is it now? I guess that makes sense, Expo replied.

The color aside, the surroundings were calming to Eve. Everything had a geometric preciseness that struck her as eminently dependable. As they walked towards what Eve assumed to be civilization, buildings started to grow in number. Like the pier and the dock, they too were geometric perfection, reminiscent of an adobe style of architecture with uncovered rectangular openings and square windows dotting them. They were also a pale blue, and Eve felt a friendliness in them.

Despite the rigid lines and perfect angles, the city could hardly be described as organized. It was a series of cubes and prisms rising from the ground like a diabolical child’s block creation with stairs and walkways and bridges shooting in all directions. There was an organic feel to it, a personalized touch to every corner and crevice. With an inclination towards the artistic rather than the engineered, Eve liked it.

Come on, Expo urged her. I'll show you to your accommodations.

Chapter 2

Eve's Story

Beginning Three months Previous

Eve stared at her light blonde hair in the mirror. Only an inch long and still that was too much. Damn the color, damn her soft features, damn everything. She turned on the electric razor and went to work on the most glaring sign of her German heritage.

When she was finished, stubble almost indistinguishable from her scalp looked back at her, and even though her face still retained its femininity, it had grown into somewhat of a mystery. People liked their boxes and their categories, even in France where the culture tended to be less tied to labels.

Boschdyke! someone yelled at her, hitting her heritage and her appearance in one. Eve ignored it until a clod of dirt hit her in the side of the head.

I'm talking to you, you whore, the voice called in haughty French. Eve's brain translated everything into English, or into German, her native tongue. She might have to live in the country, but she didn't have to associate with it.

The voice came from a child, a twelve year old girl that Eve often found sitting on one of the doorsteps she passed on the way to school. This time she stood just off the sidewalk, her arms crossed in front of the pale pink dress that made her look two years younger. Eve could see another projectile in her hand, this one a rock. She turned to face her assailant, one hand clutching her bag, ready to use it as an impromptu weapon, the other balling into a fist.

Don't do what you're thinking you little dyke whore! This came from an older woman watering her flowers a few doors down. Attacking a child, so typical of your kind. The woman shook her head, swinging her watering can about her garden like a mace as she continued her morning.

Eve turned to face the woman, thumped her subtle chest and raised her arm at a forty-five degree angle for a few quick seconds until the woman noticed and gave chase. She felt the metal watering can bounce off the sidewalk behind her, spraying her socks as she sprinted away.

After a few hundred feet she turned back to see the woman picking up the can and returning to her flowerbeds. Unfortunately this kept her from seeing the next obstacle on her treacherous walk to school.

Ungh, Eve cried out as an elbow hit her in the midsection, dropping her one hundred and twenty pound frame and separating her from her bag. Luckily Emma was kind enough to kick it into her stomach, following through with her pointed toe and then driving her heel into her ribs. Behind her Tomas, her boyfriend, laughed.

Tomas loved that his girlfriend Emma was so fucking tough. He loved when Emma beat the fucking shit out of her for no reason. He loved when she fought back and he got to protect his little hellion by grabbing Eve, which meant groping her to his heart's content.

She stayed down, they couldn't do much when she was down. They’d just kick, and the layers she’d piled on for the winter months would protect her some. The summer had been the worst, when she'd taken a swing at Emma only to have Tomas grab her and lifter her off the ground. Her shorts and panties had been rubbed askew and Tomas had taken her moment of weakness to accidentally slide a finger into her pussy. The grimy digit of a twenty year old thug was not how she'd envisioned losing her virginity.

***

Eve returned home later that night, not to cry into her pillow or to beat herself up, but to repair where her clothes had been torn and put them in the laundry. She also called up a map of her route to school and planned yet another alternative, like it mattered at all. Tomas and Emma had never failed to find her. Get a degree, get a job, get out, she kept reminding herself.

Tomorrow was her eighteenth birthday and she was hoping for one that wasn't awful, not daring to go so far as to dream of a day that was actually pleasant. When the load of laundry finished, she folded them gently into her dresser drawers and pulled out her favorite outfit, a pair of navy blue skinny jeans and a black hoodie that hid her boobs and made her gender impossible to decipher. She was going to have her day, Tomas and Emma and others be damned.

***

Ung, the fuck? A splash of cold water had forced its way into her dream.

Get up, get up you fucking dyke, a shrill voice collapsed the fantasy entirely like an unstable bubble.

Huh?

You're eighteen, you're not my problem anymore, her mother yelled in the sort of pidgin French that could only come from a woman with a one book education."

Mom-

Get out, get out, get out!

Fuck! Eve yelled, having to fight off the bucket as her mother hurled it in her direction. She was half successful, sending it toppling end over end into her face, smashing against her right eye with an impact that brought immediate tears and blurred her vision. She ducked as she saw her mother pick something else up and hurl it at her, recoiling again as it shattered on the wall behind her.

Maxime’s photo, she thought, a pang of sadness striking her in the chaos. Maxime was a slender boy she'd gone to primary school with. The other students had taunted her and teased her, for her heritage, for her appearance, for anything they could think of. They’d teased Maxime too, mostly for his long blonde hair and his waifish body. It wasn’t uncommon to mistake him for a woman from behind. He’d never tried to put a stop to the taunts sent at her nor did she return the favor, but they never seemed to be far away when the other was being abused, ready to sidle up and offer a hug when tears began to fall. She didn't know if she'd loved anybody in her life, but if she had, it would have been Maxime.

Her mother continued to yell and throw things as Eve grabbed what she could from her room and tossed it into her backpack. At some point her brain turned off the part of it that knew French and the words devolved into a series of ghastly wails.

In ten minutes she stood outside their tiny cottage on the outskirts of Verdun, blinking into the foggy horizon like she’d never seen it before. Her mother had become increasingly withdrawn, barely speaking to her in recent months, and Eve had been foolish enough to hope that the woman had finally realized that her conversion efforts and proselytizing were going to waste. In reality had only been biding her time.

She might have cried had the efforts of Tomas and Emma and others not instilled in her an appreciation for the awfulness of the world. Instead she only cared about where to go next.

***

Un Homme, Une Femme. The number of places that proudly displayed their hetero-normative preferences seemed to pop up everywhere in Verdun over the coming days. More than one had kicked her out for being a dyke and Eve’s protests that she wasn’t gay had fallen on deaf ears. In short order she was out of money, out of possessions, and living on the birthday outfit that still sat on her back.

Look what we have here, Emma said, sidling up with Tomas and two of their cronies behind her. Little bitch got kicked out of the house.

Fuck you, Eve said, emotion creeping into her voice and tears blurring her vision.

Bitch, Emma said, taking a lazy swing that crashed into Eve’s forearms. When she fended off subsequent blows, Tomas moved around to hold her arms behind her back. Emma taunted her for a minute, putting open palm-prints across both her cheeks before balling her right hand into a fist and hitting her square in the nose.

Blood spurted onto her face and the tears that had been coming pushed her to full-fledged blindness. Emma hit her again, in the jaw, in the stomach, and in the breasts causing her to double over in pain.

Get out of here, she heard someone yell, falling to the ground as Tomas dropped her. She heard scattered footsteps meld with a series of slow steady claps as the Municipale Police Officer she thought she’d spotted earlier approached.

Thanks, I- she started, wiping the blood and tears away with her sleeve. Her nose throbbed with pain, but it didn’t feel broken.

You want to make friends, go to Paris, the officer said, stepping over her and continuing into a nearby café. Eve sat there and cried.

Chapter 3

Exploration

Expo wound Eve through the adobe squares and rectangles, pointing out things he deemed important as they passed. There’s the Café, they can make you anything you want, he said.

What’s the point of eating if it’s a dream? Eve replied with a bit more venom than she’d intended.

Kick that rock, Expo said, pointing to a sky blue boulder about the size of a softball.

What?

Go on give it a good boot, it’s not really there, he urged.

Ow, son of a- Eve’s cursing was cut off by Expo’s slow guffawing laughter. As she recovered, she noticed the pain didn’t quite linger like it would have in the real world.

Things might not be real, but it doesn’t mean they’re any less intense, Expo explained, continuing onward.

You could have pinched me or something, Ever grumbled, glad her foot seemed to have fully recovered.

Actually I couldn’t have, Expo said. Inhabitants are prohibited from harming one another here.

Why?

Because of how they got here, Expo said, offering no further explanation. He stopped in front of a small empty room off of a less traveled side street. You can use this as a home base if you want. Some have rooms here, some don’t, instead preferring to wander the city or the bazaar or the surrounding lands. Some keep little gardens just off the edge of town past where the docks end. He smiled at her. Your choice. New arrivals now. Auf Wiedersehen, he bowed and headed off.

Eve looked around her accommodations, a solitary room in a cube glued to the corner of one of the buildings a few minutes walk from the city center. Beside it a stairway led to the next level up. She made her way skyward, walking to the railing at the edge of the roof and looking into the distance. The blocky shapes extended as far as she could see and made up the entirety of her vision in all directions save for a cluster of awnings down on the street level a few blocks away, the bazaar she surmised. There seemed to be a light coming from somewhere but no sun shone in the sky. Instead it seemed to be the buildings themselves that illuminated their surroundings.

Likewise she found her room to be perfectly lit, not dim enough to make it a struggle to see and not bright enough to be obnoxious even though there weren’t any switches on the wall. Brighter? she wondered aloud, almost jumping when the room responded in kind. Weird, she said, trying and failing to discover the source.

She walked back outside and upstairs, looking over the rooftop rail once more and casting a glance at the steps that extended from one of the sides to another rooftop. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the isolation. On one hand, it was nice to have the privacy, but after months of being tormented by her compatriots and the silence of her mother she longed for positive human interaction.

Her barren room seemed useless to her, and since she was dreaming she certainly didn’t need any rest so she opted instead to wander into the heart of the city. The steps down didn’t have any sort of handrail and though she knew she couldn’t seriously injure herself, she had no desire to again experience the sort of sharp pain that had come from kicking the rock.

It seemed that most everyone else had the same destination in mind as people became more frequent the deeper she headed in, and though the buildings grew taller, the light did not diminish, giving even the most narrow of alleyways a homey inviting feel.

I’m Owen, I’m new here too, an older man in his mid to late fifties sidled up beside her, slowing the lanky gait of his wiry legs to match her pace. I can tell ‘cause you’re lookin’ around like 'what the hell is all this,' he explained, his Louisiana drawl making the words pour out of his mouth like warm syrup.

Yeah... Eve trailed off, not sure how to respond to Owen’s friendly banter. Normally she would have made an excuse to head off somewhere by herself, but this was what she wanted…wasn’t it? Where are you from? she tried.

New Orleans, he said, making it one two-syllable word. Guess that makes us kin in a way. It might not be Vieux Carré talk, but I know a French girl when I hear one."

I’m from Verdun, it’s near Germany, Eve said, not sure how else to respond. Conversation wasn’t her strong suit. Nor did it seem to be Owen's, but he endeavored to fill the silence nonetheless.

Well this is my second time here, I imagine you’re about finishin’ your sleep and I’m just startin’ mine.

Or I’m napping… Eve answered. She found she didn’t remember much about her waking life.

Yeah maybe, Owen mused. Don’t remember a whole lot from this place, and don’t care to remember much from the other place when I’m here.

So is any of it real?

Expo says it is and I can see and touch things and it’s all different. That’s enough for me.

What happens when we wake up?

We just wake up, Owen answered.

Chapter 4

Owen’s Story

I’m sorry Owen, Ken Kurtz said in a tone that suggested otherwise. He looked like the sort of man more interested in spending time at the gym than working, the sort of man who only rose through the corporate ranks to collect various titles. In five years he'd probably be an absentee state senator somewhere. It’s not an easy choice, but it’s a choice we have to make. We have to cut staff.

Are you cutting production? Owen asked.

Well, no-

"Then how in fuck can you cut staff? Look, I know the shit we make is too fine and too specific to be done by machines, and I’m the best you’ve got. I’ve been here forty years, since I was eighteen. What the fuck?"

It’s just how it is, Kurtz said, nodding to the two security officers towards the back of the room. In addition to Kurtz, they too were a new addition from the international conglomerate that had bought the small-town machine shop he'd spent his life at.

Fuck you and fuck your goons, Owen said, walking out of the office ahead of them. They stopped by his station so that he could collect his things